


Idiot Sandwich of Love

by ConstantlyTiredReader



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Serious Injuries, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyTiredReader/pseuds/ConstantlyTiredReader
Summary: Needless to say, when Stretch was planning on going out to have a smoke, this was not on his list of things he was planning to see: one usually doesn’t anticipate one’s boyfriend showing up out of nowhere heavily bleeding first thing in the morning.
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	Idiot Sandwich of Love

Needless to say, when Stretch was planning on going out to have a smoke, this was not on his list of things he was planning to see. 

Actually, that isn’t _quite_ accurate. With the machine up and running, it isn’t too weird for them to get visitors from other universes, especially of the skeletal variety. Yeah, they normally have the decency to text a head’s up, make sure that someone is there to greet them, but whatever. 

The point is, one usually doesn’t anticipate one’s boyfriend showing up out of nowhere heavily bleeding first thing in the morning. 

Edge, despite the additional cracks in his skull and the marrow dripping in the snow, smiles when he sees Stretch. Normally, the fact that Edge’s first reaction to seeing him is happiness would bring warm little flutters to his soul. On a lower level, it still does. Right now, though, Stretch is a little preoccupied by the injury, by the way Edge is leaning to the left as he walks. And by preoccupied, he actually means panicked, but same difference.

“Stretch,” Edge says, stumbling forward. His legs buckle beneath him before he can say anything else. Stretch teleports over and catches him — barely. If it weren’t for the fact that it probably contributed to his injuries, Stretch would be thanking the angel for the fact that Edge isn’t wearing his armour. 

Half dragging him along, Stretch gets the two of them to settle down on the front porch. It would be better to go inside, sure, but Edge needs healing, stat, and Stretch can’t afford to waste any of his own energy when it needs to be reserved for healing.

Warm green flows from his hands to Edge’s skull, slow but steady. All of Stretch’s thoughts circulate around the love he has for his boyfriend, every feeling of kindness he has. Anything he can do to strengthen the magic, the better.

He thinks of that point when he and Edge made the shift from aggravating the other at every possible occasion to actually enjoying each other’s company. It would be an understatement to say that Stretch was thrown for a loop when he clued into it. But it was good. Certainly made multiversal get togethers a lot less awkward, that’s for sure.

Soon after came their first date. The shy eagerness shared between them as they spent time together away from their brothers is almost embarrassing now. Edge showed up to Underswap in an honest to goodness tux, too preoccupied by trying to impress Stretch to consider his own comfort. Frankly, he would have been impressed even if Edge had shown up wearing a dirty paper bag pulled from the Dump. It took a bit of convincing, but in the end, he ended up borrowing some of Stretch’s own clothes; silk formal wear and picnics in Waterfall don’t mix. 

Then, there was their first kiss. Oh stars, their first kiss. Teeth clacked awkwardly against teeth, more of a sad bonk than anything tender. Stretch was _convinced_ he had ruined the moment with his fit of giggles following the attempt. Who does that? But when he looked up at Edge’s face, all he saw was an indulgent smile, radiating warmth, and when he suggested trying again, Stretch readily agreed. 

Kiss number two can only be described as _wow_. Sure, it wasn’t anything crazy — and goodness knows it was clumsy compared to what they do now — but there was just something special about it. Maybe it was the fact that it was a new way for them to show their affection for each other? Stretch doesn’t know, and he doesn’t really care as to why it is. All he knows is that the occasion was burned into his memory, something pleasant to think about when he and Edge are universes apart.

Eventually, the magic peters out to a pathetic trickle, forcing Stretch to give up.

Still holding Edge’s skull, he wipes away some of the blood with the sleeves of his hoodie. It needed to be washed, anyways. A frown makes its way across his face when he registers how cold to the touch his skull is; Edge is usually the warmer of the two of them. Even if the attack that caused the injury happened in Underfell’s Snowdin, he shouldn’t be _that_ cold. His sweetheart must have lost more blood than he thought.

Skull cleaner, it is easier for Stretch to examine his handiwork. There are no signs of today’s injuries, his magic having left mostly smooth bone behind. Yes, there are still divots and raised edges from past wounds that didn’t get the same chance to heal. With all his soul, Stretch wishes his magic could do something to help with these old ones. But, he reminds himself as he runs his thumb close to the largest, deepest scar that runs through Edge’s socket, those have been left too long, scarred beyond the point of repair.

Still, that doesn’t stop Stretch from sending one more weak pulse of healing magic through to him. Just in case.

Staring deep into Edge’s eyes, he continues running his fingers over those sharp cheekbones of his in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. His eyelights are fuzzy and half focused, likely a result of both the blood loss and the healing. Still, he should wait it out, make sure that Edge doesn’t have a concussion or some shit before letting him go back to Underfell. Red would probably dust him if he put his brother in that vulnerable of a position, especially right after a probable fight.

There is an increase of pressure as Edge leans in closer to the touch. “Warm,” he mumbles semi coherently, continuing to nuzzle at his hands.

Stretch suppresses a grin. It isn’t often that Edge is unabashedly touchy feely, which is a real shame in his book. He could really get used to this softer side of his edgelord. 

“that would be the healing magic.” And the fact that Stretch has only been outside for a few minutes versus however much longer Edge has. Also, Stretch’s hoodie is appropriate for sitting in the middle of Snowdin. Edge, on the other hand, is wearing a freaking crop top, but now doesn’t seem like the time to mention that, nor the fact that a scarf doesn’t do any good if half of his spine and the entirety of his arms are exposed to the elements.

Speaking of… 

“feel like coming inside?” Edge nods. Thank goodness; Stretch isn’t sure what he would have done if he didn’t.

Getting Edge to the couch is a much easier process that it was to get him around to the front porch, given the fact that he isn’t about to collapse on Stretch anymore. A quick Check reveals that his HP still isn’t entirely full. More concerning, though, was the message that accompanied it.

_Was in rough condition by his standards. Is better now that he is with you._

“i’m... i’m gonna make some cocoa. holler if you need something.”

Instead of waiting to allow Edge a chance to respond, Stretch shortcuts right into the kitchen, flicking the switch to turn on the kettle before grasping at the countertop. Any of the calm he had managed up to this point is gone, replaced by an annoyingly delayed sense of panic.

What _happened_ to Edge?

Sure, Stretch knew things were bad. Kinda hard not to when the guy showed up staggering with visible injuries. But that first sentence of his Check keeps coming back to him like a boomerang of shitty news. _Was in rough condition by his standards._ Fuck. What does that even mean to someone like Edge, who is all high HP and fierceness from murder world? 

The whistling of the now boiled water distracts Stretch away from his spiralling thought. He takes a deep breath, trying to get his shit back together. Stars, he wishes Blue was here. Besides being the more capable healer, his brother can actually handle things like this without losing his mind. Blue isn’t here, though, which means that Stretch needs to put on his big boy pants and help his boyfriend recover. 

Hands shaky, Stretch returns with two mugs of the promised hot cocoa. If Edge noticed that he spent far more time in the kitchen than he should have, he doesn’t mention it.

He does, however, have lots of other things to say about the situation.

“Stop it,” he complains as Stretch carefully tucks a blanket around him. “I’m not a babybones.”

“no,” Stretch agrees even as he continues fiddling around to make sure Edge stays nice and toasty, “you’re not.”

“Then stop mothering me!”

Stretch, in consideration of Edge’s current state — and the fact that he honestly seems annoyed enough at this point to get up and march back to Underfell — manages to stifle a snort. “babe, if you think _this_ is me playing mother hen, i’ll call my bro. i’m sure he’d be willing to cut his rounds short for the day if he heard what happened.”

That threat results in Edge flipping him off, even if its impact is diminished by the amount of time it took to untangle his hands from under the blanket. It does shut him up though.

“hey,” he says more gently, delivering a quick kiss to the top of Edge’s skull before settling down beside him. “if i can deal with smothering when i so much as sneeze, you can tolerate me making sure you’re brought back up to snuff after showing up here with a head injury.”

Edge sighs, but almost immediately starts cuddling with him. “Fine.”

“glad to hear it.”

As minutes pass, Stretch can’t help but consider asking Edge what happened. Each time, he decides not to. He isn’t one hundred percent sure if he is ready to know, if he wants to know. Blissful ignorance may be the way to go here. As long as he doesn’t ask, he can convince himself that it isn’t as bad as his imagination wants it to be. Let him pretend that Edge was just sparring with his Undyne and things got out of hand, like he didn’t see the deep claw marks at the base of his skull, or the break at his nasal bone that looked like it was smashed in, or —

So much for ignorance being blissful, huh?

Beside him, Edge reaches forward to set his mug down, only to freeze halfway to the coffee table.

“what’s wrong?” Is he in pain? Stretch thought he had taken care of all his injuries, but he didn’t pay much attention to his back. That was a mistake; spine injuries can really mess a person up and fractured ribs hurt like a bitch. 

“Where are the coasters?”

“coasters?” Stretch repeats, a burst of nervous laughter building in his chest. Coasters. Is that seriously the big deal here? He shortcuts to the kitchen, grabbing one from the freshly washed stack that hadn’t yet made it back to the living room. On second thought, might as well make it two. Edge would be disappointed if he went to the effort of grabbing him one and then put his own mug directly on the table. And if he wasn’t, Blue certainly would be. “here.”

“Thank you.” Edge straightens the coaster after placing his mug before he continues, “And thank you for the healing. I would have asked my brother to do it, but he had to deliver Judgement on the survivors.”

Oh no.

This… this was _official_ business, then.

“anytime.” Hopefully as infrequently as possible. “is, uh, is red okay?”

They never talk about it, really, but from what Stretch has patched together, Asgore seldom calls for his Judge. True, Queen Toriel doesn’t really call Stretch in either, but that’s because there isn’t a need to. A vast majority of incidents can be covered by the Royal Guard without his help. In Underfell, though, there is so much more stuff that could — and should — warrant a trip to the Judgement Hall. 

But for Asgore to actually care… Stretch _really_ doesn’t want to know what happened.

“He will be.” Before Stretch can think of asking, Edge clarifies, “He was fine before I left. He kept out of the way and provided backup.”

“good. that’s good.” Red’s LV may have given his HP a boost, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that the little gremlin doesn’t have much to spare. Especially not in a situation that caused so much damage to Edge. He may not be saying so, but Stretch knows how much of a mess his boyfriend would be if Red was harmed.

“It is.” He frowns, which adds another bump to the emotional shitshow of a rollercoaster Stretch has been going through all morning. His face soon wrinkles to a look of disgust directed at Stretch’s sleeves. 

Oh. 

Right. Those are still very stained from when he wiped Edge’s face. Whoops.

“i’ll change in a minute if it makes you feel better.”

“Good,” Edge grumbles with a hint of scolding. “The sooner it can soak, the better.”

“then i guess i should go right now. but first…”

Any irritation in Edge’s expression melts away as Stretch holds his face in an echo of earlier today, replaced by soft affection. Hell yeah. Seeing that look on Edge is easily the highlight of his day. It only gets better when they close the distance between them. Their kiss helps soothe Stretch’s remaining stress. Peaceful, it doesn’t escalate into anything more than a sign of their love. Now isn’t the time for passionate making out. Just this is perfect.

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. It’s a dumb saying, in Stretch’s opinion. Still, he probably should go change out of his sweater. 

Pulling back, he notices something about their position and he can’t help himself. It isn’t exactly accurate — he would have to make another trip to the kitchen for that — but he can shift his hands a little higher on Edge’s skull, a bit more to the sides.

“hey, babe. what are you?”

Edge merely blinks. “Huh?”

“you’re an idiot sandwich,” he announces cheerfully.

“I don’t get it.”

Of course he doesn’t know that meme. Clearly, Stretch is falling down on his job of bringing humour into his love’s life. Ah well; he’s pretty sure he can get Red to help inform Edge. Teamwork makes the dream work.

“never mind, babe. it doesn’t matter.” He draws in closer once more, resting his forehead on Edge’s. “all that matters is that you’re _my_ idiot sandwich.”

_And I'm yours._

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started a drawing one night at 1 am, as you do, and kept on changing how I wanted to do it. A few hours of redrawing and erasing and redrawing and erasing later, I ended up with lineart that I actually liked. 
> 
> That is, I liked it until 4:30 am brain decided that it looked vaguely like the idiot sandwich meme, which I legit haven't thought about since 2016. 
> 
> I decided to go to bed and figure out how to fix it later, since that was something I should have done several hours prior. But at 5 am, before I could actually go to sleep, this came to mind.
> 
> (In case anyone was curious, [here](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/post/189347270057/i-had-an-idea-at-1am-changed-it-like-seven-times) is the final result of the picture which started it all.)
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time for updates, to talk or to find out some of my random, mostly sleep-deprived thoughts.


End file.
